


one and one make one

by symphony7inAmajor



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, Grief/Mourning, Heavy Angst, LOL!, M/M, SUPER glad that's a tag because i Do, The Author Regrets Everything, Unhappy Ending, literally nothing is good here. have a terrible day, miranda's fault!! blame her!!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-13
Updated: 2019-11-13
Packaged: 2021-01-30 05:54:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21423259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/symphony7inAmajor/pseuds/symphony7inAmajor
Summary: Patrik buys sunflowers in March.(they always did remind him of nikolaj.)
Relationships: Nikolaj Ehlers/Patrik Laine
Comments: 31
Kudos: 45





	one and one make one

**Author's Note:**

> i am... SO sorry. i'm gonna get very few readers because 1. rare pair and 2. major character death BUT HEY. those of you who do read it? my deepest and most sincere apologies.
> 
> when i said nothing is good i MEANT IT okay so like. be careful! i've never posted major character death before so....
> 
> i literally cried while writing this and i banged it out in like an hour so.... mhmm. blame miranda softeldritch for starting me on this path.
> 
> title from "bargain" by the who

Patrik buys sunflowers in March. 

Always an even dozen, neatly tied together with a navy blue ribbon and packed in plastic to preserve them. Even in the cold of a Manitoba winter, the bright yellow flowers look like they could’ve been freshly picked.

The sunflowers are placed in the passenger seat of Patrik’s car and he’s careful not to let them crumple. Each petal has to be perfect. They’re Nikolaj’s favourite, after all, and it wouldn’t do to have them look bad.

_ “Sunflowers?” Nikolaj looked at him curiously. _

_ Patrik blushed. He never thought he’d be the guy buying his boyfriend flowers, but, “I thought of you when I saw them,” he said. “Your smile.” _

_ Nikolaj had tried to fight down that same smile, but it was no use. _ _   
_

_ His smile was like the sun coming up. _

The drive isn’t really that long. It feels like it, though.

The streets all seem to blend together, gray and black and brown and all the faded colours smudging in Patrik’s eyes. Patrik blinks hard and his vision sharpens again. 

It’s not the time to get distracted.

The sky is gray, too, lending a haunting uniformity to the city. 

_ The sky was blue. _

_ That’s the one thing Patrik will remember for the rest of his life. _

_ The sky was blue and the sun was too warm for late March, but everything he saw was gray. _

_ Caroline found him, after. She’d been strong, stronger than Patrik, sitting straight and hard-faced the entire time. _ _   
_

_ She hadn’t said anything at first, standing beside him in silence for a long while. Patrik didn’t feel much like talking, either. _

_ Eventually, she broke the silence. _

_ “It should be raining,” she said, and then she’d burst into tears. _

Patrik keeps his hands tight on the steering wheel and his eyes on the road.

The road isn’t exactly busy, but Patrik is still careful. He makes sure there’s nobody coming before he pulls over onto the shoulder and opens the door. He brings the sunflowers with him.

He has to walk a little ways down the road, his boots crunching on the snow and the gravel. He keeps the flowers cradled close to his chest, as if they need protection from the cold. 

They don’t. They’ve been dying since they were first cut from their roots. 

Patrik’s foot slips on a patch of ice and he catches himself before he can fall.

The ghost of pain twinges in his ankle, but it’s not real. It’s just a memory.

_ “I’ll see you in a week,” Nikolaj said. He’d pulled on his toque and smiled up at Patrik. Tufts of his blond hair were peeking out from under the hat. _

_ “I’ll miss you,” Patrik said, grinning crookedly at the way Nikolaj rolled his eyes. Patrik limped closer, pain spiking in his sprained ankle. _ _   
_

_ “You’ll live,” Nikolaj said before pulling Patrik down to kiss him. _

_ Patrik kissed him one last time, then pulled him into a fierce hug. “Love you,” he said. _

_ Nikolaj laughed, startled, but hugged him back. “I love you, too,” he said, pulling away with a bemused expression. “What was that for?” _

_ Patrik didn’t know. He shrugged, said, “I can’t tell my boyfriend I love him?” _

_ Nikolaj had turned around once, while he went down the hall. He had his suitcase in one hand and his car keys in the other and he waved cheekily at Patrik. Patrik would always remember him like that—bright and happy and alive. _

Come back, _ Patrik wanted to say, _ don’t go without me. _ But he hadn’t said anything, and Nikolaj had left to meet the team at the airport. _

_ He’d never made it that far. _

Patrik has to slide into a shallow ditch at the side of the road. 

There’s a small wooden cross at the bottom, surrounded by flowers both fake and rotting as well as other tokens. There are a few old hockey sticks, pucks, even a Jets jersey with _ Ehlers _on the back.

Patrik doesn’t look at that one for very long.

He brushes the bottom of the cross clear of debris and unwraps the sunflowers. He kneels in front of the cross, ignoring the cold snow seeping through his jeans, and sets them down gently. He strokes his fingertips across the yellow petals.

Someone has taped a plastic-wrapped picture to the centre of the cross. Patrik sits back on his heels and looks at it, letting his eyes trace over the sharpness of Nikolaj’s jaw, his cheekbones, his wide smile. Whoever put that picture here chose well.

Patrik swallows past the lump in his throat and squeezes his hands into fists so tightly that his nails, ragged and torn, bite into his palms. He thinks he might be bleeding.

“I miss you,” he says. His voice is quiet, but finally saying it, finally admitting to himself that Nikolaj is gone… it _ hurts. _

_ “Patrik Laine?” _

_ “Yes?” _

_ “You are listed at the emergency contact in Nikolaj Ehlers’s cell phone. Would you be able to come to the hospital immediately?” _

_ That had been the longest night of Patrik’s life. _

_ Nikolaj was already in surgery when Patrik got there and he’d spent hours in the waiting room, alone. Sometimes someone would pause to look at him sympathetically before moving on without a word. _

_ The longer it went, the more hopeless Patrik felt, and eventually someone came to get him. _

_ “If you want to say goodbye,” the doctor had said. _

_ Patrik had thrown up in the waiting room garbage can until there was nothing left to come up, then he’d followed the doctor to the room they’d put Nikolaj in—the room where they waited for him to die. _

_ He’d sat at Nikolaj’s bedside for hours and held his hand, wishing more than anything that Nikolaj would open his eyes to at least _ look _ at him. He never did, and the bed was empty and stripped of sheets by the time the sun came up. _

_ Patrik had gone calmly to one of the bathrooms, locked himself in a stall, collapsed on the floor and screamed and screamed and screamed, until his voice was gone and his head was pounding. _

“I miss you so much,” Patrik says, his voice uneven. “I loved you—I still love you. I don’t think I’ll ever stop.” Patrik swallows hard, breathes out shakily. “You were the best thing that ever happened to me, Niky. I wish—I wish you’d been the one with the sprained ankle that night.”

Patrik presses his bloody palms to his face and cries until he feels like he’s going to be sick. He tries to control his breathing, but his shoulders shake helplessly with the force of his sobs. 

It takes a long time for him to stop. Long enough that he can’t feel his fingers anymore.

He ignores the stiffness in his bones and gathers all the old flowers, scraps of rotten paper and broken hockey sticks. He wraps most of it in the plastic from the sunflowers and carries it back to the car where he dumps it in the trunk.

Patrik thinks about leaving now. He even opens the door, but he changes his mind and returns to the small memorial. 

“I shouldn’t have waited this long,” Patrik says hoarsely. “I should’ve done it that night. I thought about it, but I didn’t want the team to be mad at you if you were late. If I had—if I had, you’d still be here.” Patrik pulls a small box out of his pocket and places it snug against the base of the cross. “It’s always going to be you, Niky,” he says, and he opens the velvet box. 

A gold ring with three glittering diamonds meets his gaze. 

Patrik closes the box with a snap. 

“I love you, Nikolaj,” Patrik says. 

He trudges back to the car and drives back to his apartment. Not home, though.

He can’t ever go home again.

_ “Hi,” Patrik said. He was eighteen. _

_ “Hi,” Nikolaj said. He was twenty, with one more year of NHL experience than Patrik. _

_ They shook hands and Patrik let his grip linger a little longer than he needed to. _

_ “It’s nice to meet you,” he said. _

_ “You too,” Nikolaj said and he grinned, wide and reckless. _

_ Patrik was eighteen and too young to be sure, but he knew even then that he wanted to make Nikolaj smile like that every day for the rest of his life. _

**Author's Note:**

> [insert sad faced emoji of your choice]
> 
> regret!
> 
> also i wrote this in an hour and didn't reread so if you see something wacky please let me know... thank you.
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/symphony7inAmaj)
> 
> [tumblr](https://symphony7inamajor.tumblr.com)


End file.
